Scrapbook
by CierraLuv97
Summary: A picture speaks a thousand words, and nothing can be truer when it comes to Sam and Freddie's relationship. The characters reminsice about the good old days, where violence meant love and meat was prized above all. Read and review.
1. Chapter 1

**Hellooo everyone it's Cierra, and I'm here with another story! Well, it's actually one of those Seddie Challenge things. Basically, there's a list of 101 themes, and I have to write a story involving each one. The themes are:**

**Zoo**

**Wreck**

**Worried**

**Web show**

**Weak**

**TV**

**Trampoline**

**Tomboy**

**Time**

**Tiger**

**Thrill**

**Thoughts**

**Third**

**Theme Song**

**Text**

**Test**

**Summer**

**Stuffed Animal**

**Stressed**

**Storm**

**Soft**

**Sleepover**

**Sign**

**Seattle**

**Sculpture**

**Scream**

**School**

**Rubber band**

**Rollercoaster**

**Rainbow**

**Project**

**Prank**

**Poster**

**Pointless**

**Picture**

**Piano**

**Perfection**

**Park**

**Paper Airplane**

**Night**

**Nicknames**

**Mumble**

**Moonlight**

**Monkey**

**Mistake**

**Mischief**

**Makeup**

**Love**

**Locker**

**Lips**

**Lecture**

**Laugh**

**Journal**

**Jealousy**

**January**

**Influence**

**Impression**

**Hug**

**Hospital**

**Hate**

**Handcuffs**

**Hamster**

**Ham**

**Guess**

**Gravy**

**Grapes**

**Glint**

**Girly**

**Gift**

**Game**

**Frienemies**

**Friday**

**Flying**

**Flowers**

**Flawed**

**Fight**

**Dress**

**Drawing**

**Daydream**

**Dance**

**Cuddling**

**Crazy**

**Crayons**

**Cool**

**Cookie**

**Contest**

**Confession**

**Clueless**

**Circus**

**Cage**

**Bracelet**

**Bowling**

**Boredom**

**Blondes**

**Baseball Bat**

**Banter**

**Balloon**

**Bad Boy**

**Air Hockey**

**Afternoon**

**Accident**

**I got the list of themes from popcorn1001, from whom I first heard about the challenge. Thanks for that, by the way.**

**Happy reading!**


	2. Mischief

**Just Another Day In Sam's Neighborhood**

**Theme: **Mischief

**Genre(s): **Humor/Romance

**Point-of-view: **Freddie's

**Summary: **Freddie has always been wary of of Sam's neighborhood, along with Sam herself. Then he finds her hiding out in her neighbor's treehouse with cartons and cartons of rotten eggs, and he is immediately concerned. Is she up there for a good reason, or is she stirring up mischief... that was a rhetorical question. Of course she's up to no good!

**Post/Pre Seddie: **Post-Seddie (Sam and Freddie are dating in this story).

* * *

><p>"Freddie, look out!" I heard Sam suddenly yell from what sounded like above me. Instinctively, I jumped to the left just in time to avoid being hit in the head with an egg. It splattered on the hot sidewalk of Sam's street, looking like a tiny little bomb as the egg shell pieces were tossed around by the strong wind. My first reaction was, <em>What the heck<em>? And then my second reaction was, _Just another day in Sam's neighborhood_.

This was kind of why I wished the bus would drive me directly to Sam's house instead of stopping at the top of her street. Her neighborhood was filled with frightening college girls, toothless old criminals, and about all the pregnant men you can find in the world. I would never, ever, _ever_ tell this to her, but her street completely creeped me out.

Eggs dropping out of the sky was just the beginning of it. A few days ago, I was walking to Sam's house when I passed some old bald lady with sideburns watering the garden in her front. It seemed normal enough (well, not the baldness and the sideburns), until I noticed that the plants were shriveling up and dying when they got wet. Turns out, it wasn't wter in the watering can; it was _acid_, and when I told her that it might not be healthy for the plants, she freaked out and began chasing me down the street with the acid can while screaming that she was going to file a lawsuit. I'd kind of given up on going to Sam's that day. I value my life too much.

"Up here!" Sam called again, and I looked up to see her waving at me through the window of a tree house. This should've made sense (Sam did like throwing breakable things at people) except that Sam didn't have a tree-house and this wasn't her yard.

Although, Sam was a great lover of mischief. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with that.

"I thought you were the creepy kid from down the street who keeps coming to my house trying to sell us brownies," she further explained when she saw my confused expression.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"Well, the Sharp family - the ones who hand out toothpicks on Halloween - moved out a couple weeks ago, and the real estate agent is bringing some people to look at their house today, which happens to be this one. And guess who that family is?"

"The Brady Bunch?" I asked carelessly, naming the first family to pop into my head. If I didn't guess, she'd never tell me.

"Nicole Bowen's family," she told me.

"Ooh," I said sympathetically. Nicole Bowen was the most prissy, annoying girl in the entire school. The accepted belief was that she breathed in a pound of helium every morning to make her voice sound like a chipmunk, and that it was also messed with her brain. Naturally, Sam hated her.

"But it still doesn't explain why you're sitting in their future tree house with a carton of eggs," I pointed out.

"Well, there is no way that purse-dog is moving onto my street. So, I'm going to egg their house. The entire family is probably a bunch of girls, and they'll freak out. And when they start to go hysterical - _bam_! I'll throw the remaining eggs at them. They'll never want to live here, and hopefully get so scared that they'll leave Seattle forever. It's effective _and_ entertaining. And, for the record, I have over twenty cartons of eggs in here, and all but one carton of eggs are rotten. It's amazing what you can get by giving the skeevy guy at Wal-mart five bucks."

I was shocked, but also secretly impressed, which immediately made me feel guilty. In order to make up for it, I said, "Sam, you can't just throw things at people and expect for everything to work out for you."

"They said people couldn't go to the moon either, and look what happened."

I shook my head and smiled. "Sometimes, I think I know you, until you do something like this. You're insane."

"Exactly. Who'd want to be outsane?" Sam pointed out, even though she knew perfectly well that the real word was sane.

Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, I ran across the faded green grass to the tree. The ladder looked rickety and about to break off, but I stepped on it anyway.

Inside the tree house, it felt even more unsafe. It was pretty windy out, and the branches were making freaky sounds as they swayed. "Sam, I think the tree house is -" I started to warn her, but she shushed me.

"Freddie, you have to learn to live a little," she told me seriously. Then she grinned. "Pass me an egg."

I widened my eyes in mock fear. "But, Sam, we could get in trouble! Oh, wait a minute - you don't care."

She reached out and mussed up my hair with her hand. "See, you _do_ know me. This is why we work. But I still want to egg this house." She opened one of the cartons, and we both gagged at the smell.

"Where did you say you found these?" I choked out.

"I'm not sure where they were before the dude at Wal-mart gave them to me. Now, hurry, and help me get rid of them!" She grabbed three eggs and began to hurl them out the window. Reluctantly, I followed her lead. That is, I _was_ reluctant until I realized that it was fun. If the neighbors noticed the eggs flying out from the tree house, they didn't care.

We went on egging the house, and about half the eggs were gone when the wind started up again. Only, this time, it was stronger. The entire right side of the tree house was leaning towards the ground. I backed away from it quickly, but Sam didn't react fast enough. She fell out the window, shrieking, along with two cartons of the remaining eggs.

I sat there with my back pressed against the floor - it wasn't a floor anymore, but it wasn't as vertical as a wall, either - before I scrambled to the window, my heart pounding. I was expecting to see Sam splattered on the ground like the egg she'd thrown at me. I probably would've thrown up. Thank God that I didn't need to.

Sam was clinging to a branch right below the window. Pieces of egg were on her face, in her hair, and splattered all over her clothes.

"Oh my God, Sam," I gasped. "Don't do that! You almost gave me a heart attack."

"Sorry, Benson. I'll be sure to ignore gravity next time I'm in a life or death situation," she snapped.

"Are you okay?" She was still maybe ten feet above the ground. "Do you want me to call for help?"

"I'm not a cat," she said with her teeth clenched. "I don't need help." The tree started to straighten itself up and she almost lost her grip, her hands slipping on the yolk-covered branch.

I knew too well to actually tell her I was going to help. Instead, I climbed down the ladder and stood directly underneath her. "Just let go, Sam. I'm here."

"That's so corny," she shouted down at me, but she let go off the branch anyway, and dropped.

Actually, now that I think about it, she sort of did that thing you do in video games. Like, when you jump in mid-air, then slam down on someone. I think she did it on purpose. Anyway, I wasn't really prepared for the force of her (Sam would eat me if I said _weight_) and we collapsed in a pile on the ground.

"Ow..." she moaned before glaring at me. "Nice work, Freddie. _Real_ smooth."

"At least you landed on top," I grumbled. Her elbow had slammed into my ribs, and I'm pretty sure it'd leave a bruise. My mom was going to _love_ that. "If I don't come to school tomorrow, it's your fault, since I'm pretty sure my mom is going to send me to the ER and never let me leave."

"True," she conceded, rubbing her elbow. She still hadn't gotten off of me. "Your mom is a monster."

"Yeah, you can talk," I gave her a small shove, pushing her off of me so I could stand up. I held out a hand, and she took it grudgingly.

"You know, if it was anyone else, I'd push you into a sewer," she told me.

"Yeah, but I'm not anyone else, am I?" I asked, half-teasing, half-not.

Sam smiled and bit her lip, and she might have kissed me, except that we heard someone gasp, and we both whirled around. Nicole Bowen and her family were standing, stunned, on the now egg littered lawn. Steam should've been coming out of the real estate agent's ears. Then, she noticed us.

"Sam Puckett!" She roared, and starting running towards us. It would've been scary - she had a pen in her hand and looked ready to chuck it at us - except that she skidded on an egg shell and fell.

"Run!" Sam giggled, grabbing my hand. We ran like hooligans down the street, breathless partly from laughter and partly from fear. The real estate agent's curse and Nicole Bowen's squeak's echoed after us.

Yep, just another day in Sam's neighborhood.

**A/N: I did the little background info thing up above because, well this is basically 101 one-shots, but you don't get to read the summary. I thought I'd let you know what each one is about, so you wouldn't end up reading one you'd hate.**

**Also, I'm not sure if it's very realistic for the wind to do what it did in that story, but, FYI, it didn't completely rotate the tree-house. It just turned the wall towards the ground - not all the way, but enough so you could fall out if you weren't careful.**


	3. Dance

**Never**

**Theme: **Dance

**Genre(s): **Romance

**Point-of-View: **Sam's

**Summary: **Freddie has always been the one hopelessly lovesick, always wanting what he could never have. And Sam has always had the liberty to tease the life out of him because of it. But when she wanders in on a moment she'd never thought she'd see happen, a soft, uneventful conversation comes to mind. Will she reconsider?

**Pre/Post Seddie: **Pre-Seddie (Sam and Freddie are not dating in this one).

School dances are so lame. I mean, all it's just a bunch of kids jumping up and down to lame music, eating lame snacks, and dancing with people they won't talk to the next day. Big whoop.

The fact that Gibby had rejected me made it even more depressing. Not that I liked Gibby or anything. God, no. It just made me think that if I couldn't get a guy like Gibby, how was I ever supposed to get a boyfriend?

It was after the dance, and I was walking to the Groovy Smoothie from Gibby's house. I hadn't actually gone to the dance (only slightly insane people go to dances without dates), but I was going to meet Carly and Freddie there after the dance was over, and I couldn't wait to see the look on their face when I told them about Tasha.

I pushed through the door into the Groovy Smoothie, expecting to see Carly making out with Austin and Freddie ignoring his date so he could drool over Carly.

Instead, I heard slow dance music on louder than it should be. Carly and Freddie were swaying slowly in the middle of a otherwise deserted Groovy Smoothie, while T-Bo looked on smugly. Carly's head was resting on Freddie's shoulder. I couldn't see her face, but Freddie's eyes were closed and he was smiling softly, like people do in old 50's movies and junk. Neither of them noticed me.

All alone, I froze. Then I did something I'm completely ashamed of.

I ran away.

Okay, so I didn't actually run. But I did slowly back out of there without making a sound. What was I supposed to do? I clearly wasn't welcome. Freddie has been in love with Carly since… well, forever. And if she likes him back, then it wasn't my place to intrude.

That's what I told myself anyway, while I was staring out the window on the bus. It didn't explain why that scene still bothered me. It's not that I -

_I'm not even going to say it_, I thought harshly. Because it won't happen. It bothered me because Freddie is a total geek and Carly has never liked him before now. I just wasn't used to the image. Plus, they'd always looked like they could be brother and sister, so it looked unnatural. That was all.

Except that I kept thinking about a conversation me and Freddie had in the Groovy Smoothie, after Carly had been speed dating all those guys. She'd been laughing with Austin, and me and Freddie had been watching.

"Someday, she's going to laugh like that with me," Freddie said, with a certainty only utterly stupid people can possess.

"Please," I snorted. "It'll never happen."

"As if you're an expert on true love," Freddie snapped.

"I know how to tell when a stupid kid's dream is unrealistic. Carly will fall in love with you when _I_ fall in love with you."

"Ew," Freddie exclaimed loudly. If it was anyone else, I would have been insulted.

"Exactly. Now shut up and drink your smoothie before I pour it down your pants."

Then Spencer had come to pick us up and we'd gone out to dinner. Nothing else had happened. Nothing had even happened during that stupid conversation. We had it practically every day. I don't know why it seemed so significant now.

The lights were off at my house when I got there. It wasn't until I got to the door and realized it was locked that I remembered that my mom had gone to her boyfriend's for the night, and that I was supposed to let myself in. Too bad I didn't have a key. Which meant I was going to have the window and turn off the alarm system before the cops showed up. Again.

But I was too tired to do that right now, so I slumped down against the door and stared at my porch ceiling. I wish it would just turn into fried chicken.

My phone began to vibrate. I groaned, but pulled it out of my jacket pocket. "What?" I said, sharper than intended.

"Whoa, calm down!" It was Carly. "Where are you? I thought you were going to meet me and Freddie at the Groovy Smoothie."

Was it bad that it annoyed me that she said _me and Freddie_? Ignoring my turning stomach, I said as casually as possible, "Well, I felt kind of tired, so I decided to go home."

"Um, okay," Carly said, sounding like she didn't believe me. "Did you talk to Gibby?"

"Yeah."

"And what did he say?"

"He already has a girlfriend." Just like every other guy whose good for anything.

"No way!" Carly gasped. There was a pause while she repeated to information to someone, probably Freddie. I wished his name would stop coming into my mind. It irked me.

"Is she pretty?" Carly asked after a moment.

"Extremely."

"That's so weird," she said.

"Yeah. I have to go." I really didn't want to talk to her, because whenever she said something I kept picturing her waltzing around with Freddie. It was pretty distracting.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Adios." I snapped my phone shut, and sighed. I was exhausted.

_Oh, face it,_ a nasty voice in my head snickered. _You _like_ the king of nerds and there's nothing you can do about it! Unless you want to break both his and Carly's heart, that is._

"No," I hissed, embarrassed when I realized it was out loud. I was not going to be one of those girls who likes a guy just because she can't have him. I never have been.

So why was I one now? Why, all of a sudden, was my urge to twist Freddie into the shape of a small dog not as strong as it usually was. Why did I not want to go laugh at Carly for dancing with him?

_I was just jealous because I didn't have a boyfriend_, I suddenly thought. I leaned my head against the door, relieved. Of _course_. I didn't like Freddie. I never have! It was just that I was bummed out about being rejected by Gibby, of all people, that I became a little delusional. Even Freddie, the lowest of the lows, seemed worth it for a while.

I stood up, feeling refreshed. My thoughts once again drifted back to our conversation in the Groovy Smoothie. Neither of those things will ever happen, I realized proudly. I've got nothing to worry about.

Me falling in love with Freddie is about as certain to happen as one of Spencer's sculptures actually getting into a real musuem - one not filled with nutbags and weirdos. Impossible. And that's how Mama likes it.


	4. Project

**Heyy, everyone, I'm baaack! I know I haven't update my iCarlys in super long, which is because I got really sick with Post Potter Depression - the number one leading cause of death in America :D It's kind of funny, because I completely hated Harry Potter until two months ago. Anyway, I was too obsessed to write iCarly for a while (if you like Harry Potter, I've written a couple of Harry Potter fanfictions - all oneshots. Check them out!). But I was rereading this story and I was like, "Hey, I'm funny!" And then I discovered two one-shots I never published. Huh.**

**Oh, and for anyone whose interested: I will be posting the next chapter of What Happens Next in the next week or so, I think (I'm pretty busy with school - I'm finally a big, bad eighth grader!). So, so sorry for the delay, but I am going to finish it. **

**Okay, all systems go. (I would do the whole genre and post/pre Seddie junk, but honestly I'm too tired to do that, and I figured that you can't all be complete morons.)**

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><p><strong>Definition of a Nub<strong>

"I'm not doing it," I announced as soon as I stepped into the library and caught a whiff of the air. It smelled like cobwebs, old lady perfume, and hand sanitizer. Three things that I distinctly hated. "I hate this place."

"Sam, you have to!" Carly insisted as I started to walk out, grabbing my arm. "You'll fail if you don't. And we can't work on the essay at my place. Spencer's having some big musuem director over and he hates all forms of children."

"And my place and yours is out of the question," Freddie added. "You know, for obvious reasons."

I chose to ignore Freddie, _for obvious reasons_. "I'm already failing Couber's class," I pointed out, wriggling my arm out of Carly's grasp. She had a pretty good grip, no doubt from years of restraining me. "I have nothing to lose."

"Getting a D isn't failing," she said patiently.

"It's pretty close," Freddie muttered from behind her. She stamped on his foot, nowhere near hard enough to hurt him.

"And you have plenty to lose. I heard her talking to Mr. Howard, and do you know she's considering giving you an F?"

"She can't!" I protested loudly, suddenly panicked. Failing a class and getting an F were two _very_ different things in my book, separated by a thin line. Crossing that line was like suicide

"Quiet in the library, Samantha," Mrs. Carver, the librarian, squawked as she waddled by, wearing her multi-colored fishing hat as usual.

"Eat me, _hat_," I snarled, too distracted to notice what I was saying. Not that I would care either way.

Mrs. Carver stopped, then hurried back to us. "Did I just hear what I think I heard?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think you did."

Mrs. Carver breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. That's what happens when you get old. Your hearing starts to fail you." She rustled Freddie's hair around, then toddled back to the desk. We all shrugged.

"What did Mr. Howard say about it?" Freddie asked quietly as soon as Mrs. Carver was out of earshot, obviously concerned about volume. Such a nub.

"Obviously, he agreed," Carly admitted.

"I've already gotten an F on a report card," I hissed urgently. "If I get another one, and in _English_ -"

"- you have summer school," Carly finished for me grimly.

"You've got to get a good grade on this essay," Freddie said. Way to state the obvious, nub.

"Thanks, Sherlock," I snapped, running a hand through my hair. Then I glanced up. "How bout writing it for me?"

"No way," Carly said quickly. "You have to do this yourself, or you'll never be able to."

I groaned. "Fine. What's the assignment."

Carly pulled out a perky pink folder from her bag, and pulled a piece of paper out of that. "'All year, we have been studying how words can effect our lives'," she read. "'For this final essay, you must choose a word - it cannot be an adjective or adverb - and explain how it and it's definition have applied to your life and have helped shape who you are. Please include at least three specific details. Your essay will be composed of an introductory narrative, introduction and conclusion paragraphs, and three body paragraphs. Your final grade on this assignment will count for thirty percent of your final grade.' See, it's not that bad."

"I didn't understand half of those words," I complained.

"Just choose a random word, and write about how it relates to you," Freddie translated as he and Carly pulled me over to one of the tables in the library. "If you get an A on this, you could go from a D to a C minus."

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically as I sat down, though there really wasn't anything to be sarcastic about. He was still a nub. "What are you guys doing for yours?"

"My word is _siblings_," Carly said proudly.

"That makes no sense." I grumbled. Drat. I'd been hoping to copy off her.

"I'll explain when you have an idea." She smirked at me, clearly knowing what I had wanted to do.

"What about you, Freddiza?" I asked, turning to Freddie, who was already scribbling down words in his notebook. When he saw me trying to peek, he pulled it away.

"_Extremes_," he said suspiciously, watching me carefully.

"_Extreme_ is an adjective."

"Or a noun."

"Don't be _stupid_, Freddie."

"_I'm _not the one whose stupid."

I heard my own intake of breath, the anger rushing through me, and the heartbeat echoing through my skull. "God, I am so sick of people calling me that! Just because I don't like school automatically makes me an idiot? I'm not stupid, you know. I'm not stupid!"

I wasn't mad at exclusively Freddie - lately I'd been hearing this from teachers, my mother, people I passed in the hallways. Detention, sassing adults, and loving jerkey always make you stupid in the minds of other people, and it was really starting to make me angry. By the time I finished, I was yelling. We all glanced over to Mrs. Carver's desk. She was asleep.

"I'm _not_ stupid," I repeated stubbornly, softer this time. I locked eyes with Freddie without glaring. Then I stood up, and walked rigidly yet quickly away.

When I got to the dictionaries, I slowed down (I could use it to brainstorm for my essay) and quietly glanced over. Carly was whispering furiously to Freddie, who looked guilty. Her expression reminded me of those on the faces of young mothers, lecturing their four year old sons about stealing candy from the drug store and teasing their little sisters -

_Ha ha, very funny Carls, _I thought, realizing what 'specific detail' Carly must be using for her essay. Of course. Me and Freddie were the siblings. We were always fighting, we had an obvious rivalry, and we only knew each other because of nessecity. Yet, I suppose you could say that, when it really mattered, we were there for one another. How clever of her. And corny. And untrue.

The whole thing made me even more angry and worked up then I had been before. I opened the colossal dictionary with more force than needed, wrinkling my nose at the smell of coffee and dead animals (someone seriously needs to tell Mrs. Carver about a little product called _air freshener_). I'd opened to the N section. Sighing, I ran my finger down the page, reading off the words in my head. _Next, nibble, nickname, nightmare, nitrogen, no, nonsense… _all boring, and _nonexistent _in my life - another word on the page.

I glanced at the next page. _Nose, notary, nothing, novelty, November, noxious, nuance, nub, nugget _-

I stopped and went back to _nub_, a smile creeping onto my face. I didn't know it was an actual word. I almost called Freddie over to tell him his name was in the dictionary, before I remembered I was still mad at him. I can enjoy this myself. I read the definition;

_Nub: [nub], noun; the heart of a matter, the main or most important part of a problem or argument_.

I blinked. That couldn't right. I read the definition again. And again. And again. But it still didn't change.

All these years, I'd been practically calling Freddie _my_ _heart_, and _most __important_, and I didn't even know it? My head was reeling.

"Hey, Sam?"

I gasped. Suddenly, my heart was pounding. I whirled around. Freddie was standing in front of me. Nice timing.

"Yeah?" I managed to say, sort of breathlessly. His eyebrows creased. Paranoid, I reached behind me and slammed the dictionary shut.

"Are you okay? You seem kind of freaked out -"

"I'm fine!" I lied brightly, trying to calm myself down. I definitely was freaking out, which made zero sense. So what if the word nub had some stupid definition that no one had heard of? I tried to convince myself. No need to freak out. No one's going to care.

"Um, okay," Freddie said warily. He glanced around, probably searching for some sort of trap.

No, that's a lie. _Freddie_ would care. And, for some reason, that was what was scaring me.

"Why are you here?" I asked sharply, not in the mood for any civilities. Unfortunately, that seemed to be exactly what Freddie wanted.

"Look, I just wanted to tell you that you're not stupid. You know I never mean half the stuff I say. I just can't think of anything worse to call you. But seriously, Sam, you can be really smart when you want to be. I'm sorry."

I was already off guard, but his words delayed mine even further. "And that's just not something Carly scripted for you?" I asked stupidly, completely disproving everything he had just said about me.

He grinned. "Nope."

"Well, all right then." I smacked his shoulder hard, feeling normality start to return when he winced. "You are temporarily forgiven, nub." I cringed. Normality left. The word was instinct. Thank _God_ Freddie didn't notice.

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go make sure I'm not bruised." He smiled briefly at me before walking away, his hand rubbing his shoulder.

I closed my eyes, weak with relief. But it didn't last long. Relief never does. Freddie was a nub, and this time, I meant it literally.

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><p><strong>Like it? Love it? Hate it? It's not my best, but I like the beginning. The "Eat me, hat" line comes from this funny Australian book, <strong>Goon Town**, that I haven't read in forever and now really want to read again. If you read, can you please review?**

**Loads of love (and apologies for not updating!)**

**~ Cierra **


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